


even if the wait is long

by basementrituals



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Canon-Typical Behavior, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Some Fluff, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29080179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basementrituals/pseuds/basementrituals
Summary: mac waits for dennis to check in.starts immediately after s12e10-no messages, no missed calls
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

_12:31 a.m_

_are u ok? ur not mad at me right?_

_sent ✓_

_12:45 a.m_

_whats going on?? did u get ahold of mandy?_

_sent ✓_

"dennis? yo," mac flips the switch on the wall lamp as he creeps into the apartment, "dennis?" 

he stands aimlessly in the dim light in the living room for a minute, wringing his hands when no one answers. he checks his phone.

_1:48 a.m, no messages, no missed calls_

the texts he sent earlier haven't been delivered. _it's fine,_ he's sure, _he's probably just on the airplane._

dennis' bedroom door is open, and he wanders over to it. nothing seems amiss: the bed is neatly made, knick knacks deliberately arranged on the bookshelf. the place looks untouched, and it's eerily quiet. he opens the closet where he finds a few empty hangers askew among the shirts and sweaters, one on the floor. dennis' suitcase is gone. a knot twists itself in his stomach, and he tries to ignore it as he picks the hanger up from the floor and hooks it back on the rack with the others. 

in the bathroom, he rummages carelessly through the shelf above the sink where dennis keeps his face wash, lotion, make-up, hair products, aftershave. _dennis spends more time in the mirror every morning than anyone he's ever met,_ mac snorts, _he's such a woman._ he tries not to think about the way dennis winks at him after he does his mascara. _his toothbrush is missing._ the bathroom suddenly starts to feel claustrophobic, and he accidentally knocks an inconspicuous orange pill bottle off the corner of the shelf, which clatters into the basin of the sink. _oh, shit. that's not good._

_2:08 a.m_

_u forgot to take -_

he sways on his feet and considers the text, erasing what he's written. _he probably shouldn't mention the meds specifically - dennis can be sort of touchy about them._

-

 _"i don't need them, mac. i'm not -" he's sitting on the couch, still vibrating with rage after the repair shop had told them the water damage to the range rover was too extensive, that it might never run correctly again._ i don't give a shit! _he'd spat, pointing furiously at the scruffy, terrified kid in coveralls,_ just fix it, you worthless grease monkey! 

_"no, i know, dude! i know you're not, but maybe you could try 'em, just for a little while?"_

_-_

_2:10 a.m_

_u forgot alot of shit man, i can mail it to u if u want?_

_sent ✓_

he sets the bottle back on the shelf and leaves the bathroom, grabbing a blanket from the foot of dennis' bed as he trudges back towards the living room. he switches off the lights, and curls up on the couch fully clothed. he checks his phone again, just to be safe. 

_2:17 a.m, no messages, no missed calls_

_2:17 a.m_

_these texts probably arent going through cos ur on the plane but let me know when u land please, i need to know that u are safe, ok?_

_sent ✓_

mac sets his phone on the cushion by his head, and tries not to think about the nights they spend watching movies together, how dennis invariably ends up curled against him under the blankets. he sniffles, it's hard to stop his breath from shuddering on the inhale. he closes his eyes tightly, hugging himself hard, and falls asleep mercifully fast. 

he sleeps like shit - _dennis screams "i hate you!" right before he growls like an animal, or claws him across the face -_ and jolts awake hard from a nightmare. his mouth is so dry he can't swallow, his head is pounding, and he smells awful. _he smells like,_ _like burning leather and oil and gas, hot, acrid smoke and oh, god,_ _what was he thinking? dennis is going to skin him alive for blowing up the range rover._

he sits up with a groan, untangling himself from the blanket and throwing it to the floor. his phone is wedged between the cushion and the arm of the couch, and he digs it out with trembling hands. 

_1:10 p.m, no messages, no missed calls_

he coughs weakly and wipes a hand across his face, attempting to shake off the sickly feeling of the nightmare. 

_1:11 p.m_

_ur car is fine btw_

_sent ✓_

_goddamn it, he's definitely not on the airplane anymore._ he tries to call, but it goes straight to voicemail. _maybe his phone died, and he forgot to bring the charger. that's likely._ mac doesn't leave a voicemail, though. dennis never checks them anyway. 

_1:13 p.m_

_u land in ND? text me back please!!! i am starting to get worried!!!_

_sent ✓_

he sets the phone back down on the coffee table. everything hurts. he stands unsteadily to his feet and stumbles to the kitchen, filling a glass of water from the tap and pounding it. sweat prickles on his skin almost instantly. he grabs a bottle of jameson from on top of the fridge next, and takes a deep swig, gagging on it only slightly. that's when he sees it: the note, written in tidy cursive and stuck to the freezer door. 

_mac,_

_call if you need_

_273-8255_

_\- dennis_

the relief is indescribable. the tight pit of dread behind his sternum evaporates as he rips the note down and scrambles over to his phone. he types out the number, eager and anxious, and holds it to his ear. 

_"you have reached the national suicide prevention hotline, also servi -"_

immediately, his vision tunnels and his throat gets tight. _dennis is always doing this shit to him._ he doesn't hear the rest of what the stupid, robotic voice has to say. his whole body tenses as he curls in on himself, ears ringing while he blinks back hot, stinging tears. the phone is still gripped tightly in his hand, _"- we're here to help, please remain on the line while we route your call -"_ and he fires it at the wall by the door with a furious grunt. it leaves a dent there, and lands face up on the floor, shattered screen flickering pathetically. he lifts his arms, clasping his hands behind his head and squeezing his eyes shut. it feels fucking impossible to breathe, and these dirty clothes are too tight. _it's fine. he - he must have miswrote one of the numbers, 'cause dennis wouldn't - it was an accident._

the hangover returns as the adrenaline recedes, and mac retches painfully hard before running to the bathroom and throwing up in the shower. _fuck it. fuck this, dude._

the warm water from the showerhead is slightly cool by the time it reaches the bottom of the tub, where he's currently sitting. it's only a rinse - breathing deep and even in the steam, he runs his fingers through his hair until it's soft and straight. mac tries not to think about how dennis sits in the tub like this while he dyes his hair for him, and how softly dennis sighs when his fingers brush against the back of his neck. 

-

_"dee's full of shit, right?" he muttered one night, towel draped around his shoulders while mac massaged the dye down to the roots._

_mac is caught from a daze, "huh?"_

_"she said - i mean, i'm not going bald, am i?"_

a little bit, _he thinks,_ but if you would eat more better, it would probably grow back. 

_"nah, dude. she was probably just trying to piss you off."_

_"yea," dennis nods, "bitch."_

-

eventually, the water gets too cold to bear, and he turns off the shower. he pulls a towel from the rack, dries himself and discards it in a heap with the rest of his grimy clothes. _dennis hates that._ he tugs on a clean pair of boxers, and crawls under the sheets in dennis' bed, exhausted. dee or frank will probably try to call and bitch about him skipping work, but he doesn't give a shit. he doesn't want to hear from them anyway. _maybe tomorrow._


	2. Chapter 2

nobody really knows how to tend bar in dennis' absence. charlie is pacing back and forth behind it, holding a weathered copy of 'the bartender's black book' in one hand, and a half a fifth of belvedere in the other _._

"there's like, a million cocktails in here, bro," he studies the book carefully and frowns, "no pictures, though. can dennis really make all this shit?" 

mac is slumped on a barstool. _he probably could, a long time ago._

-

_they'd sat together at the kitchen table one night, a few months before they'd bought paddy's and years before paddy's was just a dive whose decrepit customers melt into the booths to drink warm beer._

_dennis had spent almost $300 on bottles, mixers and a bartender's kit. he runs a finger down the instructions for a drink mac's never heard of in 'the bartender's black book,'_ _mumbling to himself thoughtfully._

-

"no fucking way," dee slurs from the stool next to him. 

"- and like, how much blood goes in a bloody mary?" 

dee makes a curled-lip face at him over the mouth of her beer, "how much blood do you think, charlie?" 

charlie cocks one eyebrow in thought, "at least a couple squirts, right?"

"jesus christ," mac heaves himself up off the bar, leaning back as the room tilts, "no blood. there's no blood in a bloody mary." 

he digs his phone from his pocket. the screen glows with a green tint behind the cracks, dead pixels obscure most of the lower right corner. 

_2:59 p.m, no messages, no missed calls_

_whatever, who cares?_ he swallows hard, sliding it onto the bar face-down and motioning to charlie for the bottle of belvedere. dee reaches for it next, and they take swills in turns until it's gone.

_3:36 p.m_

_fuck you, man_

_sent ✓_

_who needs a bartender if you never bother to mix the drinks anyway?_

**Author's Note:**

> my friend unzipped me so i wrote this fic. thank u for reading : ) 
> 
> title from pup's "nothing changes"


End file.
